I was sitting with the remains of my last beer, long since gone warm and flat, in the flickering light of vintage neon tubes made by bleeding-edge autofabricators. There’s something about this place that longs for a kind of invented history, echoes of some millenia old anti-authoritarian pop-culture ethos percolating through into the modern psyche. Distantly I could hear the pulsing rhythm of Olympian neo-synth streaming from some spectrum dark-node.

It had been two hours since Jerek was supposed to be here with the goods. Continue reading